07-05-2018, 10:31 PM
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SING, GODDESS, OF THE RAGE OF ACHILLES
Late to the party, as usual these days. It was almost funny to think of the early days, when it was just him and Starry, and Bast was usually the first to the border. That was sort of just how they did shit, honestly: Starry had a lot to tinker around with in the Observatory, coming up with wild ideas and running about to fix shit, and Bast liked to patrol. It gave him something to do, an excuse to expel energy, and sometimes, if he ran hard enough, the violent turbulence of his souls let up. Granted, he was pretty fucking shitty with small talk, which was the one downfall to him doing most of the greeting of newcomers. It was a small wonder that anyone who encountered Bastille first actually stuck around, honestly. (Which... let's see. Vinny was gone. Immy was gone. Luna was gone. It looked like a good portion of those early newcomers hadn't stuck around, so maybe it was no wonder after all.)
More recently, Bast seemed to arrive late. He couldn't tell if he'd gotten slower or if his members had simply gotten faster and more abundant. He would wager a combination thereof, honestly: his withdrawal were kicking his fucking ass, and the exhaustion was real. He might have been happy that there was an end to the energy bubbling up erratically in his veins if not for the fact that this shit sucked. Naturally, he could only blame himself, but taking on the responsibility of having fucked himself over didn't actually help much. He still threw up and shook with desperation and got cold sweats in the middle of a sunny afternoon, his throat burning. The real small wonder here was that he hadn't relapsed yet, because he wanted it bad.
He was on another patrol, trying to distract himself from the temptation (reminding himself that he couldn't do that to Hazel was only half helping), when the cluster of auras cropped up in the distance. With a yawn, Bastille took a step forward and teleported, suddenly beside Roy as his cold blue stare shifted over the display idly. He didn't really have the energy for it, but hey: he was already tired, and it looked like he was late again, so may as well. It looked like he'd picked any interesting time to show up, too.
His stare locked on the newcomer, and he studied her evenly as she spoke, snapping at Roy dismissively. His gaze narrowed slightly, and overall he was entirely unimpressed with her attitude. Military. He'd said it to Wash already, and he'd say it again: they were so damn up-tight. Confidential this, need-to-know that, blah blah. Bast was wondering if he should just break it to them that their little missions didn't mean shit here, when he decided on a less antagonistic approach. (Marginally.)
"Only I get to sass my people," Bastille drawled, his tone edging on bored as he arched a brow at her, "If you're going to show up on our border and attack our members, the least you could do is answer his damn question. I take it you want to stay with Wash, yeah?" A pause, barely. Clearly he wasn't actually waiting for a response. "Lose the attitude. We get it, you're humans, you lost your little planet, you're looking for the rest of your friends, blah blah blah. You can do all of that super confidential stuff without being rude to Roy, thanks."
What could he say? His temper was flaring a bit in the aftermath of his blissful apathy caving, and he was tired. He rolled his eyes at Wash, as if already anticipating his military-esque response to his dismissiveness, and added, "I'm Bast, by the way." His attention flickered to Church, and he had a feeling this was about to get more boring. Great.
More recently, Bast seemed to arrive late. He couldn't tell if he'd gotten slower or if his members had simply gotten faster and more abundant. He would wager a combination thereof, honestly: his withdrawal were kicking his fucking ass, and the exhaustion was real. He might have been happy that there was an end to the energy bubbling up erratically in his veins if not for the fact that this shit sucked. Naturally, he could only blame himself, but taking on the responsibility of having fucked himself over didn't actually help much. He still threw up and shook with desperation and got cold sweats in the middle of a sunny afternoon, his throat burning. The real small wonder here was that he hadn't relapsed yet, because he wanted it bad.
He was on another patrol, trying to distract himself from the temptation (reminding himself that he couldn't do that to Hazel was only half helping), when the cluster of auras cropped up in the distance. With a yawn, Bastille took a step forward and teleported, suddenly beside Roy as his cold blue stare shifted over the display idly. He didn't really have the energy for it, but hey: he was already tired, and it looked like he was late again, so may as well. It looked like he'd picked any interesting time to show up, too.
His stare locked on the newcomer, and he studied her evenly as she spoke, snapping at Roy dismissively. His gaze narrowed slightly, and overall he was entirely unimpressed with her attitude. Military. He'd said it to Wash already, and he'd say it again: they were so damn up-tight. Confidential this, need-to-know that, blah blah. Bast was wondering if he should just break it to them that their little missions didn't mean shit here, when he decided on a less antagonistic approach. (Marginally.)
"Only I get to sass my people," Bastille drawled, his tone edging on bored as he arched a brow at her, "If you're going to show up on our border and attack our members, the least you could do is answer his damn question. I take it you want to stay with Wash, yeah?" A pause, barely. Clearly he wasn't actually waiting for a response. "Lose the attitude. We get it, you're humans, you lost your little planet, you're looking for the rest of your friends, blah blah blah. You can do all of that super confidential stuff without being rude to Roy, thanks."
What could he say? His temper was flaring a bit in the aftermath of his blissful apathy caving, and he was tired. He rolled his eyes at Wash, as if already anticipating his military-esque response to his dismissiveness, and added, "I'm Bast, by the way." His attention flickered to Church, and he had a feeling this was about to get more boring. Great.
[b]BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS — ASTRAL SERAPH — THE ASCENDANTS — TAGS
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]