08-02-2018, 12:30 AM
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BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
[b]BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES
Bastille would admit it: he waited until he was just about running out of time to stride towards the ceremony. He knew there was no way in fucking hell that he could miss this, not when it was Margy, not when he was her technical "maid of honor"; the last thing he would fucking do was stand her up or turn her down, because he owed that to her at least. The real issue here was Shay, naturally. Unfortunately, standing at the alter for Margy meant standing across from Shay and her side of the wedding party as they waited for the bride to arrive for her wedding march, and he would like to cut down the amount of time he was forced to be near her as possible. Call him petty, but he liked to consider it taking precautions. He didn't want her presence ruining his mood on Margy's day.
Of course, the bride had picked his suit, deciding the color scheme and ensuring that everything matched appropriately, but Bast had turned down her offer to help him figure out how it worked. He had been reluctant to admit that he actually knew what he was doing or that he could tie a tie as deftly as he could tie his shoes, but he supposed that would be obvious when he showed up dressed accordingly. His mother had always insisted her learn, after all. He knew how to clean up if he had to, and today was a day that he had to. He tried to hate having to wear a suit slightly less for Margy.
The one thing he hadn't bothered to try to tame that morning was his dark curls, if only because he knew that it was futile. They curled at his temple and behind his ears as he strode down the aisle, gaze passing briefly over those gathered before landing on Hazel waiting at the front. He chose to ignore Shay entirely, letting him study the girl as he stopped at the alter. He stood to the other side, across from them, and his gaze was cool as he reigned back the part of him that went weak with the sight of Hazel looking so damn beautiful. He might have told her if he wasn't hellbent on keeping her in the dark about his feelings, and so he only nodded in greeting before letting his attention shift to the front.
Of course, the bride had picked his suit, deciding the color scheme and ensuring that everything matched appropriately, but Bast had turned down her offer to help him figure out how it worked. He had been reluctant to admit that he actually knew what he was doing or that he could tie a tie as deftly as he could tie his shoes, but he supposed that would be obvious when he showed up dressed accordingly. His mother had always insisted her learn, after all. He knew how to clean up if he had to, and today was a day that he had to. He tried to hate having to wear a suit slightly less for Margy.
The one thing he hadn't bothered to try to tame that morning was his dark curls, if only because he knew that it was futile. They curled at his temple and behind his ears as he strode down the aisle, gaze passing briefly over those gathered before landing on Hazel waiting at the front. He chose to ignore Shay entirely, letting him study the girl as he stopped at the alter. He stood to the other side, across from them, and his gaze was cool as he reigned back the part of him that went weak with the sight of Hazel looking so damn beautiful. He might have told her if he wasn't hellbent on keeping her in the dark about his feelings, and so he only nodded in greeting before letting his attention shift to the front.
[B]ASTRAL SERAPH — THE ASCENDANTS — [color=#e2e2e2]TAGS — [color=#e2e2e2]MOODBOARD — [color=#e2e2e2]PLAYLIST
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]