05-28-2018, 12:57 AM
![[Image: jgC0ptA.png]](https://i.imgur.com/jgC0ptA.png)
Bastille realized, abruptly, that he'd made a critic error in joining them. He'd been trying not to ruin everyone's mood by keeping his damn mouth shut, but it seemed that he was a storm cloud even in silence. Really, he should have expected that -- particularly considering who he was dealing with, here. He could sneeze and Margy and Suite would be on him in seconds, demanding to know if he was sick and whether or not he was taking care of himself properly to avoid such illness. They were just... motherly in that fashion. He'd realized a while ago that he'd more or less been forcibly adopted by the two, but it still took him by surprise sometimes when he realized he was being aggressively mothered.
Such as now. He was always operating on low-level receptiveness, and his head jerked up in surprise at the sudden burst of French in his thoughts. For a moment he looked straight at Suite and saw Frenchie, baby blue eyes just a couple of shades softer and seal-point fur rippling over white; a perfect image of his mother, superimposed over the Observer. It was fleeting, there and gone, but it was enough of a jolt that for a moment the brimming turmoil in his gut dimmed. It took him another few seconds to realize that it was Suite. The only time he'd ever heard French in his thoughts like that had been his mother, and it weakened something in him as the rest of her words washed over him.
He was still staring at her, uncertain of what to do in the face of her kindness and still subtly jarred by the sudden reminder of Frenchie, when he realized that he'd drawn Margy's attention, too. Fuck. He could practically taste her guilt on his tongue, and he scowled, feeling that rush of regret hit him once more. Rosegarden's stare was heavy, her judgment making his fur flush with warmth, and he felt a flicker of something dark and vicious in his chest defensively -- the bitter desire to snap at her that he hadn't meant to and therefore she could save her damn looks. He bit down on the urge, however, glancing briefly at Hazel as if she might judge him for slaughtering the mood, too. After a beat, he reminded himself to stop being such an irrational asshole, and instead forced out, "It's nothing, Margy. It's good to see Suite's normal body again." A pause, as he avoided Rosegarden and added, weakly, "I know you... didn't like the polar bear body much."
Hell, Margy had been terrified of that damn body, and Bastille was killing her joy with his mere fucking presence. He looked vaguely morose at the thought, before he tried for a more neutral expression, evidently trying not to suck the life out of the damn room.
Such as now. He was always operating on low-level receptiveness, and his head jerked up in surprise at the sudden burst of French in his thoughts. For a moment he looked straight at Suite and saw Frenchie, baby blue eyes just a couple of shades softer and seal-point fur rippling over white; a perfect image of his mother, superimposed over the Observer. It was fleeting, there and gone, but it was enough of a jolt that for a moment the brimming turmoil in his gut dimmed. It took him another few seconds to realize that it was Suite. The only time he'd ever heard French in his thoughts like that had been his mother, and it weakened something in him as the rest of her words washed over him.
He was still staring at her, uncertain of what to do in the face of her kindness and still subtly jarred by the sudden reminder of Frenchie, when he realized that he'd drawn Margy's attention, too. Fuck. He could practically taste her guilt on his tongue, and he scowled, feeling that rush of regret hit him once more. Rosegarden's stare was heavy, her judgment making his fur flush with warmth, and he felt a flicker of something dark and vicious in his chest defensively -- the bitter desire to snap at her that he hadn't meant to and therefore she could save her damn looks. He bit down on the urge, however, glancing briefly at Hazel as if she might judge him for slaughtering the mood, too. After a beat, he reminded himself to stop being such an irrational asshole, and instead forced out, "It's nothing, Margy. It's good to see Suite's normal body again." A pause, as he avoided Rosegarden and added, weakly, "I know you... didn't like the polar bear body much."
Hell, Margy had been terrified of that damn body, and Bastille was killing her joy with his mere fucking presence. He looked vaguely morose at the thought, before he tried for a more neutral expression, evidently trying not to suck the life out of the damn room.
[align=center]![[Image: 4ySBjji.png]](https://i.imgur.com/4ySBjji.png)
the ascendants — astral seraph — 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]