07-08-2018, 01:29 AM
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SING, GODDESS, OF THE RAGE OF ACHILLES
The irony to the whole situation with Carolina was that Bastille would probably get along with her fairly well, under normal circumstances. She was a bit rough around the edges, and certainly made a poor first impression, but Bastille did half the time, too. Abrasive personalities didn't really bother him, as long as the heart was in the right place, the soul and aura good ones. And if there was one thing he could relate to above all else, it was the drive to push harder, push past limits and break himself down so that there was nothing else going on in his head, nothing to distract. He trained frequently and harder than he needed to, and there were few places that he was happier than in the heat of battle. Combat was something he was good at, and lately, everyone seemed fond of telling him that he was bad at everything. So shoot him for indulging in something that he could excel in with ease, something that could help him burn off all of the excess energy, all of the bullshit. If only he could physically fight his problems away.
He had to push harder when the withdrawal was at its worst, if only because he was shaking so hard that it was throwing off his balance. Bast often found that it helped take his mind off the burning need in his gut, and sometimes when he woke up in the middle of the night with shakes, the first thing he did was head out for a patrol or to train. That was what he was doing now, when familiar auras in the distance earned his attention. He didn't bother to avoid them, and instead towards them, his steps light despite the slight tremor in his blood.
When he found them, he regarded them for a moment, gaze sliding over Carolina and then Wash. If they were expecting immediately hostility, there was none; Bastille could be remarkably chill when those around him were. He really only rose to bait when someone else started it, and just then, he'd accepted a tentative truce with the promise that she'd finally stop being so arrogant and speak to him normally (well, not in those exact words, but the sentiment was there). Besides: they were all fucking tired.
"Huh. Tree doesn't seem like much fun to train with," he commented idly, yawning as he sat across from them, "You should find sparring partners." He eyed the mess of bark, the broken branches, the clear exhaustion, "What're you doing, anyway? Attacking branches?" Bast was vaguely intrigued, because he'd never tried training in a tree before for anything but balance training.
He had to push harder when the withdrawal was at its worst, if only because he was shaking so hard that it was throwing off his balance. Bast often found that it helped take his mind off the burning need in his gut, and sometimes when he woke up in the middle of the night with shakes, the first thing he did was head out for a patrol or to train. That was what he was doing now, when familiar auras in the distance earned his attention. He didn't bother to avoid them, and instead towards them, his steps light despite the slight tremor in his blood.
When he found them, he regarded them for a moment, gaze sliding over Carolina and then Wash. If they were expecting immediately hostility, there was none; Bastille could be remarkably chill when those around him were. He really only rose to bait when someone else started it, and just then, he'd accepted a tentative truce with the promise that she'd finally stop being so arrogant and speak to him normally (well, not in those exact words, but the sentiment was there). Besides: they were all fucking tired.
"Huh. Tree doesn't seem like much fun to train with," he commented idly, yawning as he sat across from them, "You should find sparring partners." He eyed the mess of bark, the broken branches, the clear exhaustion, "What're you doing, anyway? Attacking branches?" Bast was vaguely intrigued, because he'd never tried training in a tree before for anything but balance training.
[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]