05-16-2018, 10:07 AM
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★ WHEN MY HEART IS MADE FROM GOLD AND FORGIVENESS SEEMS TOO BOLD
Hazel hadn’t been there for Bastille’s fire that had burned through Margy’s garden, but the news and acrid smell of smoke had caught up with her anyway. It wasn’t hard to catch the NPC whispers and non-subtle glances at the charred garden remains, or the oddly sudden separation between Bast and Margaery and the tension that lay thick between them. After that, it wasn’t hard to piece together the puzzle.
Bastille had seemed so ashamed and frustrated with himself after the incident; it was strange, because it was different from what Hazel was growing used to seeing. It was more self inflicted, as if the concept of him hurting someone important to him was more of a burden than the daily destruction he caused. Which was understandable, Hazel supposed, considering that Bastille seemed like a loyal-for-life sort of personality.
Upon approaching the newly patched garden, Hazel smiled - a private thing, kept mostly to herself as she took in Margaery and Suite’s reactions, as well as Bastille’s flustered pride swelling ever so slightly. Hazel had to admit, he’d made good on the promise to fix it. One minor thing betrayed his colossal effort: a spatter of raindrops against the ground. But there was no sign of another fire, and for that, Hazel wanted to applaud him.
“This is beautiful,” She purred, not wanting to shift the attention from them to her. “You did a really nice job.” Hazel glanced at Suiteheart and Margaery, catching on to the buzzing happiness flowing off the couple. Suite looked just about ready to burst, and it lifted Hazel’s heart. Good. It was about time they deserved something like this.
Bastille had seemed so ashamed and frustrated with himself after the incident; it was strange, because it was different from what Hazel was growing used to seeing. It was more self inflicted, as if the concept of him hurting someone important to him was more of a burden than the daily destruction he caused. Which was understandable, Hazel supposed, considering that Bastille seemed like a loyal-for-life sort of personality.
Upon approaching the newly patched garden, Hazel smiled - a private thing, kept mostly to herself as she took in Margaery and Suite’s reactions, as well as Bastille’s flustered pride swelling ever so slightly. Hazel had to admit, he’d made good on the promise to fix it. One minor thing betrayed his colossal effort: a spatter of raindrops against the ground. But there was no sign of another fire, and for that, Hazel wanted to applaud him.
“This is beautiful,” She purred, not wanting to shift the attention from them to her. “You did a really nice job.” Hazel glanced at Suiteheart and Margaery, catching on to the buzzing happiness flowing off the couple. Suite looked just about ready to burst, and it lifted Hazel’s heart. Good. It was about time they deserved something like this.
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better