03-25-2018, 08:03 PM
BASTILLEPAW AURELIUS ✧ ascendants — fireball — tags
[div style="background-color: #e3dfdf; border: 1px black solid; width: 500px; line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; margin-top: -1px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; color: black; padding: 10px; text-size: 10px"]Bastille didn't particular like closed spaces. He wasn't horribly opposed, and understood that indoor camps were much more secure and safe than outdoors ones, but still -- he needed his time out and about. He patrolled frequently or simply practiced outside if he had no where else to be, if only to get some air and get out of the Observatory. Everywhere his souls had lived had been outdoors, so perhaps the aversion was simply inherent (much as he hated to admit it).
He was out hunting early that day, unwilling to hang about inside -- he spent several hours first patrolling and checking over the borders, as if he might discover something new; met a client to strip a quick memory; and now here he was, finally returning to camp with his catches of the day. He was almost back to the Observatory when the entire thing started to shift, and Bastille stopped for a brief moment to watch before he took off running.
After a quick drop of his prey, the bengal was finding his way to the others, stare flickering around quickly as he assessed the threat level. No one seemed to be panicking, so he relaxed slightly and asked, "What was that? Did we do that?"
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]