05-22-2018, 04:59 PM
![[Image: jgC0ptA.png]](https://i.imgur.com/jgC0ptA.png)
Bastille wasn't quite feeling as in tune with the Earth that morning. Or with the sky, for that matter. Or the air. Or -- well, anything defined by the elements, frankly. He'd woken up to a surge of energy, chasing the tail-end of some past memory, and ended up plunged into darkness as the electricity in his room failed. After a cursory check, it seemed that only the room immediately next to his had been hit as well, but he'd been unable to coax the power to come back. After 10 minutes he'd given up and assigned it to be a problem for later.
Things only seemed to get worse from there.
By now, he was used to seeing cracks splinter under his paws when he stepped out of the Observatory. It seemed that within the structure, the metal and carpeted floors were safe from his destructive path -- with the exception, of course, for the lines imbedded in Hazel's floor. Outside, though? It seemed that the cracks that spread out where he walked were a permanent fixture for the time being, the spindly lines shooting out the second he made contact with the Earth. They seemed relatively minor at this point, not quite as pronounced as they were when he wavered on the brink of his control, which was... better, he supposed.
What he was not used to was being followed around by his own personal raincloud. Sure, sometimes he accidentally produced miniature versions of nature -- tornados, thunder storms, clumps of mist, and so forth -- but usually he could get rid of them relatively quickly. He'd patrolled the entire morning, trained, and gone hunting already, and this damned thing was still following him.
Bastille had elected to ignore it, and as he joined them he gave it absolutely no attention. It wasn't raining at the moment, as it had been early -- just swirly darkly behind him, like an over eager fucking puppy. Octavia had been intrigued by it for a while before she got bored and went to find something else to do. Unfortunately, Bast didn't have that same liberty.
He eyed the array of roses with some interest, and drawled idly, "Huh. Even your force-grown ones look nicer than mine. Maybe you do just have a better touch for flowers than me." That seemed to confirm his hypothesis, at these -- he'd wondered if it was the powers or if it was just him that made his roses less vibrant than Margy's.
Things only seemed to get worse from there.
By now, he was used to seeing cracks splinter under his paws when he stepped out of the Observatory. It seemed that within the structure, the metal and carpeted floors were safe from his destructive path -- with the exception, of course, for the lines imbedded in Hazel's floor. Outside, though? It seemed that the cracks that spread out where he walked were a permanent fixture for the time being, the spindly lines shooting out the second he made contact with the Earth. They seemed relatively minor at this point, not quite as pronounced as they were when he wavered on the brink of his control, which was... better, he supposed.
What he was not used to was being followed around by his own personal raincloud. Sure, sometimes he accidentally produced miniature versions of nature -- tornados, thunder storms, clumps of mist, and so forth -- but usually he could get rid of them relatively quickly. He'd patrolled the entire morning, trained, and gone hunting already, and this damned thing was still following him.
Bastille had elected to ignore it, and as he joined them he gave it absolutely no attention. It wasn't raining at the moment, as it had been early -- just swirly darkly behind him, like an over eager fucking puppy. Octavia had been intrigued by it for a while before she got bored and went to find something else to do. Unfortunately, Bast didn't have that same liberty.
He eyed the array of roses with some interest, and drawled idly, "Huh. Even your force-grown ones look nicer than mine. Maybe you do just have a better touch for flowers than me." That seemed to confirm his hypothesis, at these -- he'd wondered if it was the powers or if it was just him that made his roses less vibrant than Margy's.
[align=center]![[Image: 4ySBjji.png]](https://i.imgur.com/4ySBjji.png)
the ascendants — cosmic general — tags
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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]