06-14-2018, 10:46 PM
AND I'M JUST A DEAD MAN WALKING TONIGHT
His attention deviated, briefly, to Wren as the boy made an appearance. Ah. Socializing with newer members. Pretending he had a soul and that he was worth following -- or, at the very least, that they should stick around in the Ascendants because everyone else made up for Bast's failings. Excellent, excellent. He wasn't exactly the best at forging meaningful bonds, but he supposed that didn't matter when he was feeling almost happy and everything was hanging in a precarious balance of warm-mellow-good.
"Hi, Wren," he provided, simplistic, before shrugging. "I guess, yeah. Now it is. Where's that Korean book of yours? We can discuss its riveting lesson plans." An amused quirk of a smile, half there, though if his words came off slightly taunting it was clear he hadn't meant it in that fashion. He liked languages. And language learning. And... oh, right. Margy was speaking to him again, and his attention fixed on her, bright and intent.
"I don't think I ever bothered to look for an older copy," he mused, considering, "Never struck too close to heart for me." Though there was something dark and earning in Heathcliff that he supposed he understood, Bast had never lingered on it nearly as long as he did his classics or histories. Maybe he was self-aware enough to avoid reminders of his fucked up ways. "House of Mirth?" he echoed, attention caught by an unfamiliar but vaguely captivating title. He liked mirth. It was a good word and a good emotion.
There was a flicker of something there, and he was paying close enough attention to see it, but it was lost of him. Well, mostly. Liar, something in him whispered, if briefly -- but the thought came and went so quickly he forgot about it almost as soon as he had it, instead choosing to accept her words at their face-value. Wasn't it better to pretend everything was fine and normal, anyway? The drugs in his system seemed to think so. "Uh-huh. Exactly." Eloquent addition to the conversation, here.
[align=center]BASTILLEPRISONER — ASTRAL SERAPH — TAGS"Hi, Wren," he provided, simplistic, before shrugging. "I guess, yeah. Now it is. Where's that Korean book of yours? We can discuss its riveting lesson plans." An amused quirk of a smile, half there, though if his words came off slightly taunting it was clear he hadn't meant it in that fashion. He liked languages. And language learning. And... oh, right. Margy was speaking to him again, and his attention fixed on her, bright and intent.
"I don't think I ever bothered to look for an older copy," he mused, considering, "Never struck too close to heart for me." Though there was something dark and earning in Heathcliff that he supposed he understood, Bast had never lingered on it nearly as long as he did his classics or histories. Maybe he was self-aware enough to avoid reminders of his fucked up ways. "House of Mirth?" he echoed, attention caught by an unfamiliar but vaguely captivating title. He liked mirth. It was a good word and a good emotion.
There was a flicker of something there, and he was paying close enough attention to see it, but it was lost of him. Well, mostly. Liar, something in him whispered, if briefly -- but the thought came and went so quickly he forgot about it almost as soon as he had it, instead choosing to accept her words at their face-value. Wasn't it better to pretend everything was fine and normal, anyway? The drugs in his system seemed to think so. "Uh-huh. Exactly." Eloquent addition to the conversation, here.
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]