YOU STARTED A FIRE & YOU'RE BURNING UP | open + bunker 2.0

[BASTILLEPAW]

[div style="background-color: white; width: 100%; font-family: Georgia; color: #576a6e; text-align: center; margin: auto"]BASTILLEPAW AURELIUS  ✧
the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags

[div style="line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; color: black; padding-top: 10px; font-family: Georgia; text-size: 6pt"]
Bastille was... having mixed feelings about the whole elemental-powers-blowing-up situation. It was obviously horrible for several reasons, but aside from that first storm, they seemed significantly less destructive. He couldn't actually control them, or at least not all that time, which was annoying as all hell for someone who had been born with complete control over his powers; he didn't know what it meant to learn how to use them, or to learn control. When his emotions flared, so did the weather, apparently. That was frustrating in and of itself.

However, the headaches were gone. There'd been a near constant throbbing in his head for months, accompanied by a sense of restlessness that would not go away no longer how hard he tried to work off energy. Within the last week he'd stopped sleeping, only catching a few hours here and there when he finally crashed and practically collapsed into a nap at random times. All of that was just... gone. As if things had been steadily getting worse, building up, until it all just exploded and vanished with the first introduction of his new powers. So, he sort of hated them, but he also sort of felt so fucking relieved by the sudden lack of pain that he was almost... happy.

After a few days of experimentally trying to flex control of his powers (he found that sometimes they responded when he initiated and sometimes they didn't), Bast decided to revisit his bunker project. They first time he'd tried to get to work on it, they had pretty much just worked on blueprints and a strategy for actually putting it all together before calling it quits for the day. The wood planks and other materials he'd conjured for the job were still just lying there until they came up with a better plan, albeit a bit wet and tossed about after Bastille's storm.

The bengal studied the stacks of things for a few moments, and then they simply caught fire. Hey, he needed this wood out of his way, and this was one of the fastest ways to do it. He sat back as they burned and studied his blueprints once more, before studying the ground around him where he envisioned his bunker. In theory, if his powers continued to listen to him, they didn't need a building plan if he could force the earth to mold and shape the bunker for him. He just had to figure out how, and what material he was working with, here.

[Roy Mustang]

Roy was honestly quite surprised regarding the whole elemental explosion Bastillepaw managed to cause. Roy only managed to kill the flames that whisked around Bastillepaw in a quick manner. Roy was unable to stop the earthquake, the rain, or the thunderous lightning. The whole thing had been a complete mess, and Roy wasn't sure what exactly happened that caused Bastillepaw to get into such a state. Roy had only entered the scene when he barely could hear Bastillepaw's screams over the thunder, and thankfully Suiteheart managed to get to the apprentice after he killed the flames. Suiteheart got burned a little bit, but thanks to Roy killing the flames, he prevented her from getting burned more.

Roy had been padding through the observatory when the smell of burning wood entered his nostrils. The male came to a pause as he inhaled a bit of the smoke, trying to pick up where it was coming from. And then, not shortly after, Roy saw the trail of smoke near the ceiling, and the melanistic bobcat made his way to follow it. He followed the smoke trail carefully, eventually being lead into Bastillepaw's bunker. One thing Roy didn't do was ask to step inside. He padded right inside, raising an invisible eyebrow at the sight of Bastillepaw and his little fire. "You aren't going to lose control of it this time, now are you Fullmet- Bastillepaw?" He questioned, with his confident, cocky tone as usual, almost calling Bastillepaw Fullmetal completely, due to how many times he phrased a question like that to Edward Elric.

[BASTILLEPAW]

[div style="background-color: white; width: 100%; font-family: Georgia; color: #576a6e; text-align: center; margin: auto"]WALKING STORM™
angstendants — #demotebast2k18 — rapsheet

[div style="line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; color: black; padding-top: 10px; font-family: Georgia; text-size: 6pt"]
Bastille had discovered a few things in the past few days: one, his powers would listen to him sometimes, but only when he called on them himself; two, they tended to react to his emotions, a clear indication that he had little to no control over them when they summoned themselves. So, while he knew trying to start a fire could go poorly, he was convinced that he could keep it under wraps if he called it forward willingly, like his own little pet fire. It had worked when he tested it with mini storm clouds, so why shouldn't it work now?

Bastille looked up as Roy stepped through the stacks of burning wood and headed towards him. It was almost comical to look at, really -- Bastille hadn't made any progress over than to lay his planks where he wanted the walls of the bunker to stand, so now the flames were formed mock walls, in a way. He scowled slightly, assuming that Roy was here because he guessed Bast was struggling, but he had to grudgingly admit that Roy's abilities were exceedingly helpful. It probably couldn't hurt to have someone who could keep his messes in check, because as much as it drove him crazy, Bastille sucked at it.

He didn't miss the slipup in names, but he also didn't care. "They're more cooperative when I bring them forward willingly," he muttered, glancing back towards his flames as he determined that the wood had reduced to suitable piles of ashes. "I think I can just make the earth form the bunker for me, instead of trying to figure out how the hell to put the wood together." He was avoiding the fact that he needed to try to the flames out now, but after a beat he frowned and forced himself to focus. With the rain clouds, it had been easy -- he just pushed them away, similar to how he had pulled them into existence in the first place. Push-pull, like a physical tugging to coax his powers into cooperation. This time, he tried to do the same thing with the flames, pulling on them mentally and bidding them to diminish.

And... nothing.

Bastille glared at them a little harder, gritting his teeth in annoyance, but after a few more moments they were no less willing to obey him. Instead, they simply lapped at the air idly, and Bast shot a glance towards Roy. He looked morose as he muttered under his breath, "Well, usually they listen when I bring them on purpose."

[imperia]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 600px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt;"]Imperia's introduction to the Ascendants occurred post-chaotic-power-explosion. Thus, the lovely doe remains completely unaware of the reason why she happens upon Bastillepaw and an unfamiliar male in a clearing surrounded by wood piles and other building supplies. Large ears twitch at the sound of voices, muted hoofbeats announcing the dainty creature’s arrival. She manages to catch the end of Bastille’s response to Roy, although she is unsure of what preceded it. Regardless, she finds words escaping her lips before she even has the time to stop and think about them. She bows her head in a nonverbal greeting, a pleasant expression gracing her lovely visage. Ever the image of peace an tranquility. ”Powers are the sort of thing you have to feel—“ theoretically, of course. She can no longer access the abilities she once possessed back in the forest, though she suspects that it has something to do that her old home was alive with magic. ”—You can exercise them like a muscle but until you feel it, they won’t behave the way you want them to. It’s not a head game.” Peri takes a moment to remember the sensation of willing flowers to grow at the end of winter. It was like she only had to close her eyes and envision the beauty of the blooms and the plants would obey her will.

A reassuring smile spreads across her features as she regards Bastille with argentium eyes. ”I have faith that you will get the hang of it sooner rather than later.” She is so trusting, so willing to believe in everyone regardless of who or what they are. And perhaps she associates Bast with someone who is undergoing a struggle, and her empathy compels her to reach out. Imperia is impossibly kind and pure of heart. She only ever possesses good intentions. However, her good intentions often cause her to pry into people’s business or offer unwanted advice. She does not mean to be nosy or obnoxious—it’s nigh impossible for her to ignore the impulses. Her attention shifts to Roy. She’s seen him a couple of times before, but they are still strangers. ”I do not believe we have met. My name is Imperia Arceneau, ‘tis a pleasure to meet you.” Another stunning smile decorates her pristine white visage. Very few people seem to genuinely enjoy meeting others, and Imperia is among the few.

[Margaery]

[align=center]

MARGAERY MIKAELSON

Margaery was... not well.

Her asthma had only seemed to grow more severe in the last few weeks, making it increasingly difficult to do much of anything without becoming winded and faint. The recent fire in her newly bloomed rose gardens aided her not, for the flames and smoke had all but suffocated her as she tried (and desperately at that) to salvage some remnant of her beautiful flowers.  She was sick, terribly so, and yet, refused to get treatment, too much of a self-proclaimed queen to allow anyone to fuss over her to that extent. She knew how stupid of her it was to remain stubbornly silent about her condition, but she didn't care. If Suiteheart somehow caught word of the illness that plagued her, Margaery would only succeed in stressing her out- she had turned off the bond for a reason, after all.

Even now, her breathing was raspy as she joined the group, suspiciously eyeing the now charred wood. She didn't know why she was here, not when every part of her was screaming to simply sleep. Resting would fix this, she had assured herself time and time again, and then she'd be as good as new.

Her gaze was on Bastillepaw, empty, emotionless. Admittedly, she was a little out of it, heavily fatigued and feeling horribly nauseous as she simply just sat there. If she wanted to hide what was wrong with her, she was doing a terrible job at it. "Imperia is," a cough, [color=#b14767]"Right. Patience will bring control, I promise." She had once had so many powers at her disposal- the ability to teleport, to manipulate both minds and emotions, and her personal favorite: the ability to grow flowers at will. Of course, that last power had broken and she, unable to control it, sprouted roses everywhere she walked, their delicate blossoms reminiscent of the emotion she was feeling. She missed those flowers and the comfort they once brought her... now, they were but a memory.

[color=#b14767]"How's it coming?" She was trying so hard to ignore what Bast had done, rationalizing that it was simply a mistake. He had not intentionally done it. She was a hypocrite in that regard- Suite phased into a bear and she wouldn't even look at her, yet the moment that Bastillepaw's own powers when haywire she accepted the fault and moved on. [color=#b14767]"I still want a room," another cough, [color=#b14767]"with a window."

[font=georgia][COLOR=black][size=14px]the ascendants [color=#b14767]| observer | wilting rose | vampire | tags