05-16-2018, 11:27 AM
[div style="background-color: white; width: 100%; font-family: Georgia; color: #a25367; text-align: center; margin: auto"]BASTILLEPAW AURELIUS ✧
the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags
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A gardening class? What could possibly go wrong? Bastille kept his morbid reflections to himself -- fire, lightning, one of those tiny little tornados he'd accidentally conjured once and been followed around by for an hours, earthquakes, the ground caving open directly under Margy's fixed garden, really the possibilities of his powers rebelling were endless here -- and instead joined them with a yawn. He had little to no interest in gardening, frankly, but he had little to no interest in most of the Clan happenings that he found himself a part of. He was willing to go along with things he didn't care about in the name of being a functioning member of society, however, and so here he was. At gardening class. With the garden he'd already burned down once.
At least he actually liked these people, he noted, as he stopped beside Hazel. "Yo," he supplied in greeting, squinting slightly at Hazel's question. He'd only revived two forms of flowers -- the roses and lilies that'd been in her garden to begin with -- but he supposed her could always forcibly grow more if she was trying to demonstrate something else. Well, maybe. He didn't exactly know many flowers, so the odds of him knowing what to grow were slim, but technically that could be worked around with a little bit of telepathy and shared images. That was all a little complicated, despite being easily done, for a gardening class, though. Like, sure, he would, but he found it more likely that Margy's plan involved what she already had at her disposal.
Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword, Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door. [b][sup]▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃[/sup][/b]