[size=9pt]/ this is human au because i do what i want.
also dw the last 3 paras are the only important ones.
So. He had responsibilities, now.
Meaning responsibilities he wasn't fully on board with. Meaning he had to drag himself out of his room in the morning after a blessed, fulfilling hour's sleep and figure out what the fuck a Cosmic General was supposed to do, what the fuck issues he had to resolve, what the fuck type of excuse he was gonna' use for sitting around in the Cleric's hide, today. See, Bast played it cool. With his damned smirk and his eternal state of nonchalance, he made it look easy, and even though, so far, Moon's new title changed nothing and there seemed to be no pressing issues that required he be stressed over-- He was, anyway. Because that was his goddamn choice, okay. It meant that if something absolutely horrific suddenly happened and everything came crumbling down, he was ready. The paranoia was a life hack.
Today, however, he appeared somewhat settled. The dark skinned boy sat atop a ledge in the observatory, slightly raised above everyone else-- one pencil in his mouth, another pencil behind his ear, two more stuck into his hair -- and stared into the bustling crowd of the Ascendant's members, thoughtful. He had a floral notebook in front of him. It was a planner. Pinterest gave him the idea. His latest bulletpoint, written in sickly pink glow pen, said; 'Is pineapple on pizza really sacrilegious?'
See, there'd been a lot of newbies turning up at the border, recently. They each came equipped with their own tragic backstory and bad attitude, and while Moon felt most of them were nice folk who could potentially fit in real well, things in the Observatory had been messy, lately, and it was probably hard for them to get into the flow of things. So this was meant to help. Scratch that, it was going to help. That pin he'd added to his Positivity Board, this morning, told him to believe in himself, so, yeah. He was doing God's work.
He snapped the notebook closed loudly and flung it somewhere behind him before sticking two fingers in his mouth and letting out a sharp whistle. It echoed. "Listen up! We're doing a little introduction thing. A meet and greet. An ice breaker. A stick-up-your-ass-remover. Whatever floats your boat." He waited for the inevitable attention before continuing, one hand rubbing sleeping at his eye as he spoke, "Right. So, if you wanna' tell us your name and your life story, or whatever the fuck, feel free, but this isn't A.A. We're doing something better.
"I call out a question and you guys give your opinion. A debate, kind of. Disclaimer, though; these are gonna' be controversial, so go wild. Get heated, yell-- knock someone out, for all I care. Just show some damn passion, okay? It's too civil, 'round here." A pause as he waited for nods before speaking again, "Alright. First question.
"Is cereal a soup?"
also dw the last 3 paras are the only important ones.
So. He had responsibilities, now.
Meaning responsibilities he wasn't fully on board with. Meaning he had to drag himself out of his room in the morning after a blessed, fulfilling hour's sleep and figure out what the fuck a Cosmic General was supposed to do, what the fuck issues he had to resolve, what the fuck type of excuse he was gonna' use for sitting around in the Cleric's hide, today. See, Bast played it cool. With his damned smirk and his eternal state of nonchalance, he made it look easy, and even though, so far, Moon's new title changed nothing and there seemed to be no pressing issues that required he be stressed over-- He was, anyway. Because that was his goddamn choice, okay. It meant that if something absolutely horrific suddenly happened and everything came crumbling down, he was ready. The paranoia was a life hack.
Today, however, he appeared somewhat settled. The dark skinned boy sat atop a ledge in the observatory, slightly raised above everyone else-- one pencil in his mouth, another pencil behind his ear, two more stuck into his hair -- and stared into the bustling crowd of the Ascendant's members, thoughtful. He had a floral notebook in front of him. It was a planner. Pinterest gave him the idea. His latest bulletpoint, written in sickly pink glow pen, said; 'Is pineapple on pizza really sacrilegious?'
See, there'd been a lot of newbies turning up at the border, recently. They each came equipped with their own tragic backstory and bad attitude, and while Moon felt most of them were nice folk who could potentially fit in real well, things in the Observatory had been messy, lately, and it was probably hard for them to get into the flow of things. So this was meant to help. Scratch that, it was going to help. That pin he'd added to his Positivity Board, this morning, told him to believe in himself, so, yeah. He was doing God's work.
He snapped the notebook closed loudly and flung it somewhere behind him before sticking two fingers in his mouth and letting out a sharp whistle. It echoed. "Listen up! We're doing a little introduction thing. A meet and greet. An ice breaker. A stick-up-your-ass-remover. Whatever floats your boat." He waited for the inevitable attention before continuing, one hand rubbing sleeping at his eye as he spoke, "Right. So, if you wanna' tell us your name and your life story, or whatever the fuck, feel free, but this isn't A.A. We're doing something better.
"I call out a question and you guys give your opinion. A debate, kind of. Disclaimer, though; these are gonna' be controversial, so go wild. Get heated, yell-- knock someone out, for all I care. Just show some damn passion, okay? It's too civil, 'round here." A pause as he waited for nods before speaking again, "Alright. First question.
"Is cereal a soup?"
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]
