WELL I'M NOT A VAMPIRE | open + beck's visit

[BASTILLEPAW]

AND I'M JUST A DEAD MAN WALKING TONIGHT

Bastille stood at the entrance to the Observatory, looking vaguely bored. He'd warned everyone that Beck would be coming by after the meeting today, and so here he was, waiting for the ghost to show up. He supposed he might feel a flicker of hostility towards him, but there was nothing. Had been nothing since he woke up with a jolt yesterday afternoon, the memories faint and fuzzy. He would say he cared out of principle, but the truth was that he didn't. He would do it again for his Clan, for Starry, in a heartbeat -- and besides, he supposed now they were fuckin' even. So, he waited in silence, without so much as a bitter thought about their agreement.

[ [member=67]beck.[/member] ]

[align=center]BASTILLEPRISONER — ASTRAL SERAPH — TAGS

[Pele N. F. I.]

[align=center]

After the meeting, and the announcement of the alliance, the young demoness had decided to see what all the negative energy was about. She'd waited a bit before following her uncle and the smell of hibiscus would've announced her presence before she did. "Uncle Bast? Why's everyone so down when you mention Tanglewood and...Brock?"

Sometimes names were hard to remember, she'd noted the 'b' and the sound of 'ck' but the 'e' seemed to have...slipped her mind. Thankfully the guest wasn't here just yet, to note the butchering of his very simple name.
[align=center]"SPEECH"『♡』"THOUGHTS"

[Character Graveyard.]

LUNAFREYA N.F.

✯ — take these broken wings and learn to fly

space

Luna had come out of the Observatory noticing that the Seraph had been waiting for Beck to show up. She had taken a seat a little ways from the younger male and she avoided eye contact with him. It seemed he was pushing everyone in The Ascendants away from him- so she couldn't even stand to look him in the eye as of now.

While they waited, Luna had decided to lie down on the ground and keep an eye out for Beck and other Tanglewood members, though she kept a close eye on Bastille and Pele.

space

✯ — Luna. The Ascedants. Easy. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[GORDON CIPHER.]

Honestly, Gordon had the same question as Pele. She didn't entirely understand why everyone seemed down at the mention of these 'Tanglefucks' - or why Bastille called them that in the first place. Gordon made her way over and settled next to Lunafreya, deciding it'd be best to hang around somebody she actually knew. Not that she didn't know Bastille, he was just... too intense for her.

★ i'll need you to reassure me i didn't waste a verse ━

[BASTILLEPAW]

AND I'M JUST A DEAD MAN WALKING TONIGHT

Bastille glanced down at the sound of Pele's voice and offered her a vague half-smile. He was genuinely happy to see his nieces when they were around, it was just that the emotion was... shallow. Surface level. Not quite there, fully. "We haven't always gotten along with them," he said, even, gaze flickering to Luna briefly and back, "They took someone special from us, once, and it was... tense, getting her back. Starry wanted us to forgive them, though, because Beck didn't realize she wasn't a threat."

He still thought that was quite a bit of bullshit, but Starry had been convinced an alliance was the only way. What if Typhoon turned on them, and Snowbound with them? What if they needed allies, and they were too stubborn to go to Tanglewood, or had too poor a relationship? What if it was just a misunderstanding and Beck didn't deserve so much hatred? Bastille hadn't agreed with all of his logic, but he did believe that having an ally was best for them. And he believed in accomplishing what Starry couldn't.

"The rest of Tanglewood is actually pretty nice," he said, after a moment, "It's just their leader who is a little... not nice, sometimes. He should be nice to you, though. We're supposed to be allies and shit now." He glanced towards Gordon, offered a nod.

[align=center]BASTILLEPRISONER — ASTRAL SERAPH — TAGS

[Pele N. F. I.]

[align=center]

She nodded along with is explaination. It was a simple reason to understand, and she kinda could see why Starry thought they could be okay. It was just a big misunderstanding, but her clan had some feelings about Beck due to his course of action. Reasonable again, because he'd kidnapped someone and kidnapping was a big no-no.

"So that's why the adults sometimes call them Tanglefucks? Because they messed up judgement wise?" Oopsie, there it is, baby's first curse word. She didn't realize it though, since that kind of language was exposed to her about as often as she ate her hibiscus, which is what she popped into her mouth right after the question popped out.
[align=center]"SPEECH"『♡』"THOUGHTS"

[Character Graveyard.]

LOST IN SKIES OF POWDERED GOLD ✧ Lunafreya Nox Fleuret

Upon hearing Pele say "Tanglefucks", Luna had immediately jumped to her paws, her blue-eyes narrowing. She would look at her daughter and ask, in a sweet voice. "Pele, sweetie. Can you tell me who taught you to say that? Mommy would like to know."

Luna was pissed. Whoever had taught her child to say that- they would feel her wrath. The female had eyed Bastille accusingly for a few moments as she awaited Pele's answer.

© madi

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

Had Margaery been capable of mustering up even the slightest semblance of happiness, she would have been entertained thoroughly by Pele's comment about 'Tanglefuck'. Instead, she merely glanced at the child and then at Luna, lips setting into a thin frown. Personally, she wouldn't have been all that bothered by one of her own children cursing. She was married to Suiteheart after all and her wife was especially a fan of some more colorful words. To each their own, she idly supposed, taking a seat.

Briefly, her attention fixated itself upon Bastilleprisoner, dull eyes studying him carefully. This alliance would prove to be beneficial in some ways but she still believed that the costs had been far too great. It had been what Starry wanted though, and Bast was loyal to their deceased seraph- that much had never changed, nor would it, she believed. [color=#b14767]"I'm sure everything will be absolutely wonderful," She droned quietly, suddenly, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. Anything to distract herself from the angry Luna and the child who had probably picked up the phrase from her absolutely darling uncle. [color=#b14767]"When's he arriving?"

[Roy Mustang]

Roy hated the Tanglewood. The bobcat clearly remembered his encounter with the Tanglewood leader- Roy thought he burned that bastard to a pile of ash. It was much to his disappointment that his attempts weren't a success, as apparently Beck was already dead. He was a damn ghost. Roy also remembered the troubles Beck caused with Luna, even if it seemed like so long ago. Roy remembered how angered people were about it, and surely people are still upset about it now. And now, Roy felt rather angry that the guy that once tried to kill him and harmed Luna was about to become their ally. He's suppose to put his trust into this guy as their ally, but Roy doesn't think he'll be able to do it. He won't be sure when there will ever be a time where he'll fully come to trust Beck.

But he's suppose to trust Bastilleprisoner about this, now isn't he? Bastilleprisoner is the leader now, surely he should be aware of what he's doing. Roy still hoped that Bast isn't going through this alliance for the late Starrynight, but instead for his clan. He can only hope that Bastilleprisoner isn't about to throw them into a sticky situation, hopefully this can all turn out smoothly, despite the fact that he's not overly fond with the whole idea.

Roy glanced over at Pele for a moment, the male just managing to keep that amused gleam out of his eyes. Roy had to admit it, hearing a child call Tanglewood 'Tanglefucks' is pretty funny. Though he shouldn't encourage Pele to keep saying it, which is why the male masked his expression with his usual confident, calculating gaze, not letting the child know he found the comment funny. He tore his gaze off of Pele, wondering when Beck will arrive, just like Margaery questioned.

[beck.]

    Although Beck would never admit it, part of him thought it was nice to, for once, not wallow in sludge wherever he stepped. Not that clearer paths would clean away all the dirt and grime caked over his bony frame; after years of trying to scrub off the awful reminder of how many times he had been thrown onto the river bank, how long he spent kicking and thrashing in blood-soaked mud against his soon-to-be executors, how he was dragged away from the river with waterlogged lungs, his body leaving a trail through the dark mud -- the boy had grown used to the constant mud staining his apparition, at least. And how could he not? Mud was the only thing that cared enough to bury him after worms had picked his bones clean and plants weaved his bones into the forest carpeting.

    But mud meant a body of water, and bodies of water meant someone was waiting to grab him by the hair with their fingers snagging the blood-slick knots and dunk his head under the water's surface. So a break from the wetlands, filled with muddy waters with lurking dangers, was something he didn't realize he needed. Besides, he liked grass just as much as he liked mud. With that, he snuck away from his clan to bring them back the supplies he was promised, carrying along the baby fly trap he was rapidly growing attached to in its makeshift and portable pot. Audrey needed the culture anyways, since most plants stay rooted in place for their entire lives. And it could possibly help him transport supplies back to Tanglewood. And he didn't want to be alone with a bunch of strangers.

    Dark-furred paws weren't sure where quite to carry him at first, his memory slipping and failing to preserve the directions he had taken before. Beck couldn't recall much of the events leading up to his impulsive visit, in fact. All his mind wanted to remember was anger. Anger towards the world for abandoning him, anger towards himself, and a seething hatred for the strung-up creature that disrupted his mind and forced him to drown all over again. Bastille didn't know what he unfettered when he went prodding around in a split soul. He deserved to suffer anyways, he had it coming, he wanted to see him strangled by a noose over and over and over -- A snarl peeled back ashen lips just the mention of Bastille, muscles moving on their own accord although Beck himself couldn't understand why. Years of shielding vulnerability had built up an deceiving mask of false emotion, and while he wouldn't show it, Beck was scared. Teeth clamped down tighter on Audrey's bucket handle, the recycled pot swaying erratically with the poltergeist's obvious limp.

      It took far too long to track down the disappearing scent trail Bastille had left when a certain panicked ghost lugged him back to his border. Unable to keep his nose close to the earth thanks to the bucket he carried, his disfigured snout continuously twitched and sniffed the air to keep himself on track. Cypress and mangroves thinned and mud dried the further he strayed from the territory he so fiercely guarded, until few trees dotted the plains and rocks took their place. The Ascendant's scent was a painfully familiar one to him, his features wrinkling as he paused at their border. Shaking his head to clear the foreign stench in vain, he pointedly stepped over their borderline with a smug sneer to himself and pressed on.

    The poltergeist was terribly exposed without any thickets or trees to lurk in, paranoia bristling down his spine as he headed to the heart of their territory. He wouldn't put it past Bastille to set a trap, just to put them back at an uneven payback ratio again. Maybe they would spare Audrey if they swarmed him. He bet Iota would take care of the mutant fly trap for him until he escaped from his troubles like he always did. While Beck daydreamed about an ambush and how he could get Audrey back to Tanglewood, said fly trap seemed to perk, leafy jaws opening in search of food. There was movement up ahead, it could sense it deep down in its trigger hairs, and a scraggly wine snaked out from its metallic pot to tug at its carrier's cold fur, impatiently demanding something to chomp down on and eat. At the vine coiling around his chest fur and nearly yanking out a clump of replicated hair, the mangy feline noticed the crowd gathering ahead, unknown creatures waiting for something. For him? Beck quickly unraveled Audrey's vine from his fur and tucked it back in its pot, limp quickening ever so slightly before he reached them.

      So many unfamiliar smells, too many. He could recognize a few on their own, but not when they overlapped and overwhelmed each other. How many were there? Honey-brown eyes squinting to make out the blurred figures before him, anyone could tell that the scorned commander was shrinking back, ready to flinch away from any prepared attack. He was frightfully small compared to their towering figures, comprised only of scrawny muscles and brittle bones. Without a scowl contorting his freckled features, his true age was present for all to gawk at and wonder if this pathetic entity was responsible for torturing one of their members. Beck was close to freezing up, apparition slouching and bony shoulders jutting with tension. He didn't like awkward crowds; they were worse than angry mobs. What was he supposed to do? Where they talking about him before he showed his ugly face?

    The boy let out a rattling wheeze, a shackled paw lifting out of habit to embarrassedly wipe away the electric-blue chemicals spilling from his missing cheek only for more to drip down immediately after. "Uh, hi," was all he could croak out, Audrey's bucket handle still hanging from his sharkish teeth and obscuring his mumble even further. The fly trap didn't seem to care about anyone present, once again reaching out a tendril to coil around the first thing it could grasp. Beck didn't try to stop his bizarre plant, or he was too preoccupied to fully register its actions. Fumbling for another sentence to spit out, the poltergeist forced a crooked smile, yet with half of his teeth permanently exposed by a salt burn, the expression came off more like a grimace of pain as he rasped, "So, whatcha got?" A greedy glint could be seen within his dull stare, enough confidence returning for him to revert back to the Beck they were expecting. His failed genuine smile warping into a childish sneer, the poltergeist rocked back and forth on his dirty paws impatiently as he still struggled to identify who he was facing.

[align=center]»――➤